Feeling Welcome In A Time Warp
by Vicious Whispers
Summary: 100 Theme Challenge. USUK or UKUS, however you choose to look at it. Mostly drabbles. Rating WILL go up as these progress. Genre will probably change with each new theme. / 3. Light, 4. Dark, 5. Seeking Solace
1. Introduction

**So, yeah, I'm starting this thing. I don't know how long it'll take me, since I plan on just updating as I think of things. These will be in no particular timeline. In fact, these'll probably go all over the place as far as time periods and order of occurrence are concerned. Basically, if the time period or a previous event isn't clearly stated, it's completely irrelevant to the story you're reading. Sorry if that bugs you.  
**

**I'm writing these for Earthquakeonmind, because she's my wonderful America & y'know, just because. c:**

**(Oh, and in case anyone cares, the title is a reference to the band Mars Argo, because I love them.)  
**

**I don't claim to own these characters or the idea of this fic.**

* * *

He watched the tall grass peacefully from across the field. Every so often, the top of the little boy's head would peak out from the grass. Well, more appropriately, the distinct strand of cowlick would.

He wondered when it would be safe for him to near the boy.

He knew that the constant fighting that had been going on, trying to claim the boy as their own, was ultimately scaring away. Which was why he needed the upper hand. _He_ needed to earn the boy's trust, because it would still give him a fighting chance.

His head popped up when he heard a laugh, and the rustle of grass. The boy was coming closer. He watched as the movement of the grass drew closer, and closer still, until a white bunny casually hopped out from it. It was not more than three seconds later that the boy did as well.

The boy nearly tackled the small creature upon seeing it, but strangely, it didn't run away. Rather, it actually climbed into his lap as the boy tumbled to the ground. The rabbit seemed to have an attraction to the boy. It didn't fear the boy. It was as if the boy had a strong connection to nature, or at least the things living in it.

He smiled as he descended the hill towards the boy. He was running out of precious time, and it was now or never that he would get the boy to trust him.

He had managed to get within five feet of the little boy before he noticed. Wide blue eyes stared up at him for a moment, instinctively clutching the rabbit closer. He thought for a moment that maybe the boy thought he wanted to take the rabbit from him.

He smiled, "It's okay, I'm not here to take your bunny."

The boy stared for a minute, before loosening his grip. A grin spread across his face. "Hey, I saw you here the other day. But, you were with other people."

He nodded, "Yes, I was. I came to see you again."

The boy gave him a quizzical look. "But why? A lot of people come to visit me lately, and I don't know why."

"It's strange to see such a young boy wandering around by himself. Everyone just wants to take care of you. To make you their little brother…and I'm really no exception." He decided to be upfront with the boy. It may be the only chance he had.

The boy's grin widened, and he moved his arms, releasing the bunny. They both watched for a few moments as it hopped away, happy to be free even if it wasn't really that unhappy to be sheltered by someone. The boy stood up, and for a moment, he worried that he was going to run away. But instead, the boy drew closer, moving so that he was no more than a foot away from him. The boy's big sky blue eyes grew wider with curiosity. "If you're my big brother, can I call you that?"

His mind flashed to memories of _his_ older brothers, and he instantly shied away from the title. He smiled back at the boy, nonetheless. "You can just call me England."


	2. Love

**Am I the only one who thinks it's funny that the first one of these ended up having 666 words? ;**

* * *

Alfred had been the first to really say it.

They hadn't been speaking at the time. Of course, they were on bad terms since the Revolution. Or rather, Arthur refused to even have a conversation with the American. Either way, they hadn't particularly spoken to each other much in god knows how long. Though, once Alfred joined Arthur's side in both World Wars (but _late_, Arthur might add.), they had become on slightly better terms.

But despite the silence, they still managed to get into heated arguments and nearly kill each other during meetings. It was a common thing to happen, honestly. It really wasn't as if this fight was any different from their last ones. In fact, Arthur was pretty sure that it was more of an insult fight than anything, and he didn't believe that either of them had said anything particularly offensive to the other.

It's why he hadn't thought much of it. After he had stormed out, Arthur had gone straight to his home and prepared himself a cup of tea. By the time he had begun to get comfortable in his chair, the details of the fight were a blur.

By the time he heard pounding on the door, the fight could basically never have happened at all. It could be as if Arthur was just angry at Alfred for existing, like he usually was.

Arthur set the cup down on its matching porcelain counterpart with a rather aggressive _clink!_, and as he moved to answer the door, he hoped he didn't chip anything.

Arthur hadn't been surprised that it was Alfred at his door. Who else would be pounding so obnoxiously for nearly three minutes straight? So he gave no more than a questionable look as he pulled the door towards him, and found a frantic and panting American waiting for him. Arthur wondered if he had tired himself out from the excessive knocking or if he had really run here from somewhere.

Alfred looked like he was choking on something, and Arthur was about to ask if he was okay before he was interrupted. "I-Iloveyou!" Alfred had shouted so fast that it came out in one quick word, and it wasn't until Alfred was already halfway down the street that Arthur made out what was said.

Well. _That_ had been rather unexpected.

Arthur stared out of his open door for a few more minutes, before deciding to retreat back inside. As he moved backwards to close the door, however, he noticed a bouquet of flowers at his feet. Most of the petals were falling off, and they looked rather battered. Arthur imagined this was from when Alfred must have ran over to his home, or from when he had thrown them on the ground in a mad dash to get away. Arthur didn't even remember when that had happened.

Arthur sighed to himself as he bent to retrieve the flowers, seeing a flash of red as he did. If Alfred had gotten him roses as well, Arthur could already shoot down the idea that he had heard him wrong.

Once the roses were safely in a vase of water, Arthur realized something. He would be expected to answer now.

That fact hit him hard. He leaned against the marble counter next to the flowers, and stared straight ahead at his kitchen. Though, it wasn't as if he was really focusing on anything.

It was obvious to Arthur that this wasn't a matter of if he loved Alfred back or not, because after centuries of denial he knew to that answer to be an unmistakable _yes_, but rather if he would accept his confession.

Arthur hesitated in his thoughts. Alfred was over-dramatic, that much was obvious. He liked to make flashy movies, and be the self-proclaimed hero. He jumped into things he was ninety-nine percent of the time unsure of. Arthur winced as he remembered that most of the things he jumped into tended to end… badly.

But Arthur couldn't mistake that look in Alfred's eyes that he had caught a glimpse of before he even knew what was going on. The look of sheer _determination_. He hadn't seen it that prominent since… well, since the Revolution.

Arthur bit his lip. Either Alfred was ridiculously influenced by Hollywood right now, or he _meant_ it.

Arthur sighed as he slumped to the kitchen tile.

* * *

It was a week later when Alfred got the call.

"I love you too, git. Don't make me regret this."


	3. Light

So, it's been forever since I updated this, though I'm not sure how many people read this other than Sara. If you do, I'm sorry about that. & I'm sorry that 3 & 4 kind of suck.  
They're supposed to go together, and I had this great idea for them, but I couldn't quite get it down the way I wanted. Either way, they're out of the way now, and I'm glad, cause I'd rather not go out of order.

* * *

Alfred was the epitome of light.

Light basically summed up what he stood for. He wanted freedom. He wanted advancement. He lit off colorful bombs, fireworks, that would light up the entire sky and show the rest of the world that he was here. He had made it. He had survived.

And, oh god, Arthur was so proud of him.

Alfred was determined, and hardworking, and so help him _god_ was he annoying at times, but Arthur loved him. Alfred would always be Arthur's bright and beautiful golden boy.

He knew that Alfred meant well. When Alfred threw himself haphazardly into situations that he really should just keep his bloody face out of, Arthur _knew_ he wasn't doing it to harm anybody. He always wanted to help. He wanted to be the hero, to save everyone. To pull them out of the dark, and into the light that he just seemed to give off.

A light that might have, in reality, gone out a very long time ago.


	4. Dark

Alfred, in reality, might have been the epitome of dark.

Of course, he still meant well. He never wanted to harm those people when he'd attempt to help them out. He really truly wanted to save them, to be the hero. But one can only have their dreams shot down so many times before they snap.

When the world doesn't want you to be a hero, you eventually have to stop being one.

Alfred wondered sometimes, why he had so many enemies. He wasn't like Russia—if you weren't counting the Cold War—he didn't feel pleasure by watching innocent people suffer. He just always stuck his nose where it didn't belong.

But, people needed to know, you didn't fuck with America. Because America, admittedly, _loved_ revenge.


	5. Seeking Solace

This one, I actually like. I could have easily gone for a revolution!fic here, but since that'll probably be used a lot in the future, I tried my hardest to avoid it. c:

* * *

Sirens. There were bloody fucking sirens everywhere. It was giving Arthur a bigger migraine than he already had.

It shouldn't take over a fucking _hour_ to get from the airport to Alfred's home. But at this rate, it looked like it was going to take Arthur at least two. How fast was he currently going? He glanced down at the speedometer.

Oh, that's right, he _wasn't_ going. Because of the fucking traffic and the fucking _sirens_.

It was probably an accident that was holding up traffic. It was probably just some stupid American citizen that decided they wanted to drive faster than the speed limit permitted—and on the _wrong_ side of the road, Arthur might add. He didn't care if that was the legal thing to do here, it was still incorrect.—and were probably talking on their stupid cell phone and not paying attention to the road. Hopefully they just crashed into the side, rather than taking out another car in their stupidity.

Arthur sighed and pressed his forehead to the steering wheel. He'd really rather be anywhere else right now. Preferably a comfortable bed. It was currently two in the morning in England, and Arthur was jet lagged and exhausted. The only thing that kept him going was the promise of a comfortable mattress—and the warm body that would occupy the bed with him, though Arthur would never admit it aloud. But, with the traffic that had been either at a complete stop or under five miles an hour, it didn't look like that was going to happen soon.

And Alfred should really stop changing things. He should keep kilometers, it'd make this feel faster. Wait, no. _Blast_ a fucking mile was longer than a kilometer. Stupid Americans and their stupid measurements and their stupid fucking citizens that got into accidents.

A beep of a horn made Arthur pull up his head from it's resting place on the steering wheel. His right arm raised ever so slightly, getting ready to flip the bastard behind him off, before he saw the gap in traffic in front of him. Oh thank the bloody _lord_. Traffic was moving again. Arthur readjusted himself in the seat and began to move the vehicle forward. How thankful he was to be going fifteen miles per hour, even if he should be going fifty five.

Though, the speed didn't last for long, and Arthur found himself stuck behind a trail of cars again, all waiting for the okay to take the detour. And Arthur swore to fucking god if he got lost on that detour, Alfred was going to pay for it.

The flashing lights were blinding Arthur on the right. With a glance, he saw that he was correct, and there in fact _was_ an accident. Two cars were totaled and on the side of the road, about seven police cars around the area, as a blockade. There was also another car there, probably family of one of the patrons. Arthur secretly hoped it was a teenager that caused the crash, it'd be bloody hilarious to see them get yelled at by their parents. Oh lord, especially if it was one of those bratty teenagers that Arthur had the displeasure of watching a whole fucking show about with Alfred, once. Honestly, American teenagers and their birthday parties were absolutely ridiculous. Though, it wasn't just teenagers, Alfred himself threw extravagant parties for his own birthday. Maybe it was just Americans.

As another car was permitted to take the detour, Arthur moved his vehicle up into the spot that opened up, glancing back to the accident in a cruel hope that his scenario was what actually happened.

The smug grin was wiped off of his face instantaneously.

The first thing Arthur noted now that his vision of the accident was clear, was that there was a whole lot of blood. It was staining the pavement a gruesome red colour in large spots. Near the stains, a body could be made out. Barely. It was more like a mass of flesh. Arthur had been through war after war, things like this didn't particularly phase him any longer.

But this hit him. Hard.

There were a few people around the other car, that appeared to be less damaged, covering their eyes and mouths. They were the lucky ones. The ones that had appeared to have no relation to the mass of flesh that once was a person. The people around the more damaged car did not appear so lucky. People were hugging each other and sobbing. Some were talking to police officials. And there was one man on the ground, closest to the body. One of the people that were previously talking to the police, moved over to embrace the sobbing man on the ground, in a small attempt of solace.

And suddenly, and Arthur wasn't quite sure why, these were not just people on the side of the road. Because suddenly that body was Alfred, and that made everything change.

All Arthur could think about in that moment was, what if that was _him_, sobbing on the ground in mourning of his little brother, his best friend, his _lover_. What if he and Alfred were merely humans, like they had thought about so many times before. Like they had unspokenly wished for every time their country was attacked, or went into war. Every time they had to part because there just wasn't a _way_ for either of them to stay in the other's country forever. Because they had duties to fulfill, duties that neither one of them had ever signed up for.

It was in that moment that Arthur decided he never wished to be a mere human again. Humans were ripped away with mere traffic accidents. Nations could withstand entire wars. That even though him and Alfred could never be with each other all the time, they could be with each other forever. And forever was an accurate measurement of time for nations.

Arthur continued up the line of cars, until he was allowed to take the detour, and finally make his way to Alfred's home—to _their_ home, and into the solace that he himself so desperately needed right now.


End file.
